


Duck and Cover

by hannasus



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8379952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannasus/pseuds/hannasus
Summary: A collection of miscellaneous Clint/Natasha Tumblr prompt fills.





	1. Commemorative Underwear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "This isn't what it looks like" (requested by Telaryn)

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Clint said.

“Okay,” Natasha replied, swallowing a smile. “Because it looks like you’re trying on my underwear.”

He was bent over in front of her dresser, naked from the waist down, with a pair of her favorite cotton bikinis hiked halfway up his thighs.

Clint straightened, sighing. “Okay, maybe it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“Can I ask why you’re trying on my underwear?” 

At least he’d chosen one of her pairs of cheap period underwear. If he’d stretched out any of her $200 lace La Perlas, they’d be having a much different, far more unpleasant conversation right now.

“You’re gonna laugh.”

“Probably,” Natasha agreed. She was already having trouble maintaining a straight face with him standing there with her underwear half on and Little Clint and the Twins on display.

“It’s dumb.”

She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. “Undoubtedly.”

Clint sighed again. “It’s something Sitwell said.”

“Oh boy,” Natasha murmured, bracing herself for some next level stupidity.

“He said his girlfriend likes it when he wears her lingerie. He said it drives her wild.”

Natasha stifled a laugh. “ _Sitwell_ said that? _Jasper_ Sitwell? That Sitwell?”

“Do you know any other Sitwells?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“So I got to thinking about it, and then I started wondering if I could even fit into any of them, and then, you know … I figured I’d find out.”

Natasha cast her eyes heavenward. “Okay, _first of all,_ when you’re trying on underwear for size, you always keep your own underwear on. That’s just a universal rule.”

Clint shrugged. “Dudes don’t try on underwear. We just grab a box off the shelf and hope for the best.”

“Barbaric,” Natasha said, shaking her head. “If you’re going to venture into women’s apparel, you really need to learn the customs.”

Clint rubbed the back of his head. “I wasn’t really planning on venturing—”

“Second of all,” Natasha said, “no way does Sitwell have a girlfriend. He was trolling you.”

Clint frowned. “You think?”

“That guy’s so far in the closet he’s eating Turkish Delight with the White Witch in Narnia.”

Clint’s frown deepened. “Huh?”

“Never mind,” Natasha sighed. She really needed to get Clint to pick up a book every once in a while. “How did it even come up?”

“Well, we were in the locker room, and his bag was sitting on the bench next to mine, and I happened to notice something red and lacy—”

Natasha pressed her lips together. “He had women’s underwear in his gym bag?”

“Yeah. And I guess he saw me looking, and—”

“And then he told you the thing about his girlfriend?” It was all starting to make sense now.

“Yeah.” Clint’s brow furrowed.

“Sometimes it honestly amazes me that you work in intelligence.”

“You think the panties were his? And he was just trying to cover.”

“Pretty sure, yeah. Also pretty sure I never wanted to know this much about Sitwell’s private life.”

Clint grimaced. “That makes two of us.” He looked down, and seemed to notice for the first time that he still had Natasha’s underwear around his legs. “Yeah, so anyway, maybe we could not tell anyone about this?”

“Hang on,” Natasha said when he stooped to take off her underwear. “Let’s not be so hasty.”

Clint looked at her and lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me this is doing it for you?”

She shrugged. “Too soon to tell. But I’m willing to find out.”

He yanked the panties up his legs, wriggling and wincing as he maneuvered them around his junk. When he was done, he presented himself for her inspection. “What d’you think now?”

Natasha pursed her lips. “Looks a little snug.”

“Not gonna tell you this is comfortable. But I’m willing to suffer for love. You wanna add it to the rotation?”

“I don’t know about that,” she said, moving toward him. “But now that they’re on, I wouldn’t mind taking them off of you.”

Clint grinned and spread his arms wide. “Be my guest.”

They weren’t all that easy to get off, it turned out, but Clint made it worth her while.

Much later, when neither of them were wearing anything, Natasha curled up against Clint’s side and said, “Okay, but it’s not a coincidence that you decided to try on the Captain America undies, right?”

She felt him shrug. “They seemed like the stretchiest.”

“Uh huh.”

His hand settled warmly on her hip. “The real question is, why do you even have Captain America underwear, and why have I never seen them before?”

Natasha smiled. “Everyone’s entitled to their kinks.”


	2. Lucky Rabbit's Foot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Where did you find that?" requested by missmudpie

“What the fuck, Nat?”

Natasha looks up from the Alfred Hitchcock movie she’s engrossed in watching and grimaces when she sees what Clint is holding. “Where did you find that?”

He was napping in her bed, but now he’s standing in the doorway of the living room glaring accusatory daggers at her. “In your goddamn sock drawer.”

“What were you doing in my sock drawer?”

“What do you think? My feet were cold, I was looking for socks.”

“I don’t have any socks that fit you.” If he’s stretched out her favorite hand-knit fair isles with his big, smelly man feet there’s going to be hell to pay.

“I thought I might have left some here—and don’t change the subject. Why do you have my lucky rabbit’s foot in your fucking sock drawer?”

“I have no idea,” Natasha lies. “Maybe you left it here.”

Clint crosses his arms across his chest and juts out his chin to let her know how much he is not buying what she’s selling. “I didn’t leave it here because I’d never even been to this place when my rabbit’s foot went missing three years ago.”

Natasha shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she says, and turns back to the television, where Kim Novak is about to fall from the bell tower. She loves this part.

“You could try admitting that you stole it,” Clint grumbles.

“Okay, I stole it,” Natasha says without looking at him. “Feel better?”

“ _No!_ I wanna know why you stole it. I searched for this thing for months, you know. Months!”

She smiles faintly. “I remember.”

“And you just let me go on thinking I’d lost it, when the whole time you had it.”

“That’s accurate.”

“ _What the fuck?_ ”

She looks back over at him finally, arching an eyebrow. “Are you asking why I took it?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m asking.”

“You were too attached to it,” she tells him.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Superstition makes you weak. Your irrational belief in the protective powers of that mangy wad of fur were an impediment you’re better off without.”

“I broke my goddamn leg on my next mission because I didn’t have it!”

“No, you broke your leg because you misjudged the distance between two buildings.”

“Which I wouldn’t have done if I’d had my lucky rabbit’s foot.”

Natasha sighs in irritation. “See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Blaming your own failures and successes on some mystical force prevents you from owning your choices and learning from them.”

“You’re saying you did me a favor?”

She nods her head. “That’s what I’m saying.”

His eyes narrow. “Okay, assuming I buy that—which I don’t—but even if you’re right, why did you hang onto it?”

“Hmmm?” Natasha says, pretending to return her attention to the movie again.

“Why keep it?” Clint persists. “Why not just throw it away if this was about teaching me not to be superstitious?”

“I guess I forgot,” she says vaguely.

He leans against the doorframe, his expression unbearably smug. “Maybe you kept it because you wanted to keep it.”

Natasha glares at him, affronted. “I did not want that disgusting animal paw.”

“I carried that thing with me since I was a kid. I used to take it out and hold in my palm whenever things got bad, remember? You used to watch me do it.”

“So?”

“So maybe you kept it because you wanted to have a piece of me to hold onto.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snaps.

His smug look only gets smugger. “Admit it, Nat. I may be superstitious, but you’re sentimental.”

Her eyes flash dangerously. “You take that back.”

Natasha has silenced heads of state, war criminals, super-powered superheroes, and an actual god with a flash of her eyes, but Clint Barton is not the least bit intimidated. “You love me.”

She purses her lips and turns back to the television. “Whatever.”

Clint comes over behind the couch. His hands land on her shoulders, and he leans down to press his lips against her ear. “It’s okay,” he whispers, nuzzling her hair with his nose. “I love you, too.”

She turns her head and captures his lips with hers. His hands tangle in her hair, tilting her head back as he deepens the kiss. Natasha will never tell him this, because his ego would be insufferable, but he is a spectacular kisser. Kissing him is one of her greatest pleasures, and if she has to steal every two-bit talisman he latches onto, then she will, in order to make sure he keeps kissing her just like this.

“Wait—” He pulls back, frowning at her. “Did you take my St. Christopher’s medal, too?”

She smiles. “Maybe.”

“Goddammit, Natasha, that belonged to my grandmother! Is it stashed around here someplace too?”

“I’ll never tell.”

“Woman, it is a damn good thing I love you.”

“Mmmm,” she hums, kissing him again. “Good thing.”


End file.
